Earlier. When the sun was still out. Not that anybody could see it…

 

In a massive holding space, like that of an empty warehouse with no lights and no escape, the air is filled with voices of Arkham Asylum inmates. Their fear, their scrambling, it bounces off the walls and forms a reverberating echo of terror.

 

“Hey, I think it’s Robin!”

“Get ‘em! Grab him!”

“Break his neck!”

“BLARG! Little shit kicked me in the face!”

“DOH! Right… in… the nuts-”

“He just kicked a guy in the nuts!”

“Why I oughta…”

 

Crunch! 

 

The overhead lights, somebody turned them on!

 

Everybody freezes.

 

“And the King said, let there be light!” Klarion enters via a chaotic teleportation, over a circle filled with demonic writings in neon red. His feline familiar on his shoulders, he sports a maliciously playful grin as the circle zips away.

 

“Welcome to Hell! I’m Klarion the Witch Boy and I’ll be your host for this evening. Say, what’s going on in here?”

 

“It’s Robin!”

“Yeah, he’s in here somewheres!” 

“Yeah, he’s kickin’ our asses!”

 

“Boy Wonder is here, in Hell? Come on, are you serious? There’s no way. That kid’s a boy scout. He’d never make it to a place like this.”

 

A young voice, “Watch out, kitty-cat!”

 

Klarion’s familiar suddenly leaps off his shoulders.

 

“Behind you!” a thug warns. 

 

POW! A kick right in the witch boy’s head! He eats the concrete.

 

“Quick! Grab him!”

“Get his legs!”

“Got him!”

“You’re in for it now, birdie boy!”

 

Klarion rubs his chin then turns around to the sight of two tatted thugs holding Robin still. He’s in a straitjacket that he managed to wriggle out of just enough to put up a good fight with stealthy kicks, jumps, tumbles, and rolls. Klarion scrambles to his feet.

 

“You! You kicked me in the head, didn’t you!”

 

“Yeah I did, and you went down like a little bitch too!”

 

“That’s a real potty mouth ya got there, Robin. Didn’t Batman ever teach you some manners?”

 

“Who said anything about Batman? I don’t care about Batman. Fuck that guy.”

 

Everyone is taken aback. Klarion ponders…

 

“Robin? Not a fan of Batman? Hmmm…” his eyes glow red, he gives the sidekick a closer look then… throws his head back, roaring with laughter.

 

“Oh are you kidding me?! That’s priceless!” Tickled, he turns away and holds his stomach, he’s laughing so hard. His eyes are even watering. The thugs are confused.

 

“Duh-what’s so funny?” one asks.

 

“What’s so funny?” Klarion replies, then turns around and points at Robin. “That’s not Robin. That’s the Red Hood!”

 

“What?!”

“No it ain’t!”

“He’s Robin!”

“Yeah, look at him! See the mask?”

“He can’t be the Red Hood!”

 

“Oh but he is!” Klarion snaps his fingers, a blast of red hot waves repels the thugs holding Robin still, throwing them aside a few feet away. The waves become electric and engulf Robin, and for a few seconds, the redness stuns him. With a mystic unravel of the straitjacket, he transforms, his true identity clear for all to see.

 

“Hey, that’s Red Hood!”

“The witch boy ain’t lying!”

“Grab him!”

“Wait, is this a trick?!”

 

“The only trickster here is him,” Klarion says, admiring his manicure.

 

Their enemy returns to his younger self, now dressed in his former Robin attire. Four thugs grab him and hold him in place.

 

“Why the hell would you turn yourself into Robin, when you’re really Red Hood?” one demands.

 

“Yeah, you could have finished us all off, Red Hood!” says another.

 

“Because he can’t change back,” smirks Klarion. “My magic was only temporary. He’s stuck like this. Am I right, Robin?”

 

“Is that really true?”

“He’s stuck like that, like Robin?”

“That is kinda funny.”

“Yeah, Robin ain’t got nothin’ on the Red Hood.”

“Yeah, but why Robin?”

 

Klarion throws his hands in the air with glee.

 

“Because that’s who he really is! Hell transformed him! To punish him. He’s a former Robin!”

 

One thug scratches his head, “Wait, there’s more than one Robin?”

 

Klarion rolls his eyes.

 

“What, you think Robin is just a perpetual child Batman totes around? Like a little crotch goblin he made with Catwoman? No, you buffoons! There’s always been more than one Robin! They’re like puppies. He gets a new model every few years. Robins don’t last forever, they grow old, they grow weak, some of them even… why, some of them even die.”

 

“They die?”

“He’s dead?”

“Wait, Robin is dead?”

“Wait, does that mean Red Hood is dead?”

 

Before another word is said, a set of double doors hellishly manifests. With blue fire, they fly open, and in walks…

 

“It’s Vergil, the Demon King!” Klarion swoons.

 

Vergil, whose white eyes glow far more frighteningly than Klarion’s, his presence is dark and authoritative. The thugs step back for him, giving him room to stride right up to Robin. But first, he beckons Klarion to come closer.

 

“Come here, little witch.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Klarion says, going gaga over Vergil’s pretty, powdery face. “Wow, you’re even more fantastic up close.”

 

“Hmph,” Vergil half-smiles at the purring familiar bunting his legs. Klarion gulps.

 

“Teekl! Teekl, stop that. Bad kitty, bad!”

 

“Don’t be so harsh,” Vergil softly says as Teekl hops into Klarion’s arms. She lets Vergil give her a loving pet, lets him scratch under her chin and behind her ears. He coos. 

 

“Sorry about that, Your Majesty.”

 

“What a beautiful familiar you have. Hi there, sweetheart, how are you? Oh, she is lovely.”

 

“Haha, yeah,” Klarion dotes. Vergil speaks again to Teekl.

 

“Hello, princess, what are you doing in a place like this, huh? Oh, so sweet, you should be somewhere more comfortable. Klarion.”

 

“YES.”

 

“I have a job for you and this beautiful little girl you have right here. Stay right there, Klarion, while I sort this whole mess out.”

 

“Yes, SIR.” 

 

Klarion steps aside for him and pets Teekl merrily.

 

“And you,” Vergil says to Robin, whose been trying to squirm free this whole time. “I’ve been watching you on my infrared security cameras. I saw and heard what you did.”

 

“He’s the Red Hood!” blurts a hoodlum. Vergil raises his palm in the direction that interjection came from.

 

“I have little use for children in my regime. Hell has clearly decided to play a nasty trick on you, to entice me to throw you aside. Transforming you into your former self, how cruel. Yet you still somehow managed to frighten forty men much bigger than you, Red Hood.”

 

The inmates stir, grumble, and snarl. They’re ready to kill the kid right here, right now. 

 

“Red Hood used to be Robin!”

“Yeah, let’s beat the snot outta him!”

“He’s nothing but a Bat-brat now!”

“We’ll get rid of him for ya!”

 

Vergil tapers them down.

 

“Hush hush. A Little Robin who can terrorize the last of Arkham’s prisoners, here in my largest holding room? What a boundless spirit you are, interchangeable somehow. You must have done something brave in the Human World to attain such a peculiar ability. I’m sure this uniform you’re wearing wasn’t always so pristine. Did you die in this outfit, Little Robin?”

 

“He’s got superpowers now?”

“Ah man, that sucks!”

“Yeah, he don’t deserve ‘em.”

“Let’s beat him to a bloody freak’n pulp!”

“YEAH!”

 

“No,” says Vergil.

 

“Awe why not?”

 

“Why not? Well because that would be a total waste. No, Little Robin, I think I may be willing to make an exception for you. Would you like me to take you away from this place? I can do that for you. I can give you whatever you desire and care for you. Is that what you want? To be loved?”

 

Vergil. He’s charming, there’s no doubt, his proposition is already selling itself to everyone else.

 

“What do you think, hmm?” Vergil finishes, his voice so gentle, kind even.

 

“I think you got a tiny dick.” SPIT! Right in Vergil’s eye! 

 

He flinches, recoiling. The thugs gasp, their respect for Vergil, cast over them like an alluring spell. 

 

Klarion scoffs, “How could Robin be so vile?”

 

With a handkerchief, Vergil wipes away the saliva, turns around and… 

 

BAM! Smacks Robin in the face! He yelps! It knocks him out! 

 

“Stupid child.” 

 

The inmates are delighted.

 

“Yeah, shut the hell up, Robin!”

“Yeah, you ain’t talking no more.”

“Yeah, you ain’t moving no more.”

“You had that coming, ya little brat!”

 

Vergil addresses the four thugs holding the unconscious teenager in place. 

 

“Head hung, body limp, Robin’s proven himself to be useless to my regime. I have a job for the four of you who were brave enough to hold him in place for me.”

 

“Whatever you want, boss,” one replies. The others nodding in reverence, ready to appease him.

 

“Take him to the forest and leave him there. Let the Divine Harpies peck out his eyes and eat his tongue. Klarion.” 

 

Klarion skedaddles to him, “Yeah yeah?!”

 

“Lead them to the Wood of Suicides then meet me in my office at the Hub, on the ninth floor.”

 

Klarion licks his lips, “Absolutely! Vergil, I could just eat you all up, you’re so beautiful!”

 

“Thanks,” Vergil says, seemingly humbled, gracious even. “Sorry it had to be this way, Red Hood. You can take him away now.”

 

Klarion leads the way.

 

“You got it! Come on fellas, time to take out the trash.”

 

Behind him, the four thugs carry Robin by his limbs, face down.

 

“It’ll be our pleasure, heh heh.”

“We’re right behind you.”

“Enjoy the wilderness, Robin, ya little punk!”

“You’re gonna die out there, nice and slow."